


Too Much Information

by Anonymous



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders Blushing, Fluff and Smut, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-13 22:15:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5718997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dragon Age Kink Meme Fill</p><p>Fenris is hit with a blood mage's spell that renders him able to feel the thoughts of others, and in the case of mages; to read their minds. He is surprised to find that the thoughts that Anders holds beneath those biting comments are of Fenris having his way with him.</p><p>Surprised, and perhaps interested in finding out more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When the spell hit, Fenris was braced for it.  
  
With his markings lit and his sword poised before him, Fenris ran at the casting blood mage without flinching; bringing his blade down at full force to split her blood-powered shield wide open.  
  
Fenris could see the whites of the human woman's eyes, wide with terror as he withdrew his sword and prepared to rip the maleficar's heart from her chest.  
  
He saw the blood mage form the words of her spell with her mouth, rather than hearing them with his ears.  
  
_'Caeci, surdi, et pati magis verum providet.'_  
  
Fenris had no time to dodge, so he thrust his hand straight into her chest without pause, moving through the brutally satisfying motion of sliding past armor and flesh to wrap his sharply gauntleted hand around the blood mage's still beating heart.  
  
His world went black as he felt her heart crush in his unyielding grip.  
  
\- - -  
  
“Fenris?”  
  
"Fenris - "  
  
Voices swam in and out of coherency, some too muffled or too slurred for any understanding.  
  
“Is he all right?” Merrill's voice asked.  
  
“Merrill, what happened? What did she do to him?” Hawke's voice.  
  
“ _Andraste's knickers, you better be okay, you bloody fool.”_  
  
Fenris shifted, confused by those words. They sounded somehow...whose voice was...?  
  
“I think he's coming to!” Hawke's voice exclaimed, sounding immensely relieved. Her relief seemed almost palpable to Fenris, and he tried to open his mouth to reassure her, but the words caught in his throat.  
  
“See? I told you he was breathing fine. No need to worry, Hawke,” Anders' voice murmured calmly, and Fenris could feel the abomination's magic hovering inches from his skin, and he jerked away from it.  
  
“ _Thank the Maker...For a second there I...”_  
  
_**"He is fine, Anders. Calm yourself.”**_  
  
Fenris' eyes slid open, seeking the source of those words. Who was speaking?  
  
Everything seemed too bright for a few blinks, but he could see that Hawke hovered over him, the rogue's avid blue eyes carefully searching his face.  
  
“Fenris? Are you okay? I've never seen you go down like that!”  
  
“I'm...” Fenris managed to mumble, his words coming out disjointed in his effort to regain composure. “I'm...fine, Hawke.”  
  
Merrill crouched next to Hawke, her delicate, dark eyebrows furrowed with obvious worry.  
  
” _Oh, my. Is he really okay? Looks a bit sick, doesn't he?”_  
  
Fenris sat up abruptly, perhaps a touch too fast, his head spinning.

He had not seen the witch's mouth move. And her voice...? Something was off. Was this blood magic?  
  
“Fenris,” Merrill's voice sounded from directly next to him, and Fenris glared at her. “Um, are you sure you're feeling okay? You look a bit – ”  
  
“Sick?” Fenris growled, finishing her thought as he edged away from her.  
  
Merrill's round eyes blinked, looking a touch surprised. “Oh, um – yes. Are you, then? Feeling sick? Nauseous?"  
  
“I didn't feel anything with my magic,” Anders commented from behind them, standing off to the side.  
  
“No,” Fenris said, watching Merrill suspiciously. “I am not sick.”  
  
“Can you stand, then?” Hawke asked after a beat, concern radiating from her form.  
  
“Yes,” Fenris said quickly, not wanting to worry her, or to appear weak. He pulled himself onto his knees before forcing himself to stand, retrieving his sword from the ground in the motion and sliding it to its place at his back.  
  
Fenris closed his eyes when he found his feet, and took a breath; his head still foggy and confused. Was it a side-effect of the blood mage's spell? Or perhaps somehow Merrill's doing? He did not feel any lasting effects anywhere on his body...  
  
_**“** **Stop worrying.”**_  
  
Fenris' eyes snapped open, and he looked from face to face before turning on the spot in search of the source.  
  
“Who said that?” He demanded in a low snarl, already on edge.

Hawke and Merrill exchanged looks.  
  
“Said what, Fenris?” Hawke asked him slowly.  
  
Fenris stared. Hadn't she...Hadn't she heard it?  
  
Hawke was looking increasingly concerned, and Fenris could see Anders eyeing him strangely.  
  
“I...nothing,” Fenris stopped short, ducking his head and shifting his weight, suddenly uncomfortable.  
  
Was the blood mage making him go mad? Hear voices?  
  
” _Doesn't seem like nothing...”_  
  
Fenris looked up, glancing sharply between them.  
  
Who _said_ that?  
  
When they continued to stare at him, Fenris took a step away from them, a mounting sense of dread weighing in his mind.  
  
“We should move on.”  
  
\- - -  
  
“Another round to Fenris! Shit, that's one impressive lucky streak you've got there, Broody.”  
  
Isabela made a face, leaning over the table toward Fenris. “'Impressive' my arse! You have _got_ to be cheating somehow.”  
  
“This coming from the one with two cards hidden in her boots. And one more, in her left bracer.”  
  
Isabela's eyes widened, but she was smiling quite genially, as though impressed with Fenris' technique. “My, someone _is_ on form tonight, isn't he?”  
  
Fenris did not respond, and he honestly didn't seem too thrilled with his latest winning hand.

Anders watched as the warrior reached out to collect his newly-won coin; his shoulders tense, his dark brow seemingly perpetually drawn together.

Anders thought, not for the first time that night, that something was definitely off with Fenris.  
  
Ever since that encounter with those blood mages out on Sundermont the day before, the elf had since been in a foul mood.  
  
Hawke had been tasked by the Viscount's steward with hunting them down, and she had asked Anders to accompany her; along with Merrill and Fenris.

And of course, Fenris had charged to the front, as he always did, getting himself hit with that spell... _'Reckless prat.'_  
  
Anders noticed Fenris' eyes flick to him, and his cheeks grew faintly warm, sending the elf a challenging look before quickly glancing away and back to his newly dealt hand.  
  
It was shit, of course. All five of his cards were different bloody suits. Again. ' _Maker but I have the worst luck with this game...'_  
  
“Blondie?”  
  
Anders looked up. “Sorry?”  
  
“Are you in?”  
  
Anders glanced between Varric's expectant gaze and his cards. “Oh, er. Yes. What's the bet, then?”   
  
Isabela snorted. “You could at least _pretend_ to pay attention. It's not nearly as satisfying taking your money when you go all doe-eyed on us.”  
  
Hawke and Varrric both chuckled. Anders scowled, affronted. _'Doe-eyed?!_ '  
  
“Four coppers,” Fenris remarked evenly.  
  
Anders dug mutinously into the leather pouch at his waist for a few coppers, sliding them over to the pile at the center of the table. Doe-eyed indeed.  
  
Four rounds, and four discarded cards later and...Anders _still_ had five different suits.  
  
_'Bloody flaming knickerweasels. That's a silvers worth of coppers I've bet. Nearly all my coin in one single round! How did I manage that?!'_  
  
“You folding this time, Anders?” Isabela asked with a knowing smile.  
  
Anders was chewing at his lower lip, but he sat up straighter and shook his head with as confident an expression as he could muster plastered on his face.  
  
“Nope. I've got a rather good feeling about this round.”  
  
_**'Liar.'**_  
  
_'Quiet you. How many times do I have to tell you; it's all part of the game.'_  
  
_**'Lying for the purpose of gambling is not a justification.'**_  
  
_'Justice, please. I'm trying to concentrate.'_  
  
Across the table, Fenris grunted a soft noise.  
  
Andesr glanced up, finding himself staring at what seemed to be a small smile forming on the elf's handsome face as he raised a bottle of the tavern's wine to his lips.

 _'Maker, but he is unfairly gorgeous, isn't he?'_  
  
_**'Concentrate. Why must I always remind you time and again? He is a**_ **distraction.'**  
  
Fenris choked, and everyone looked up in surprise as the elf began sputtering, wine spilling down his chin and over his front. Hawke thumped a strong hand over his back, and Fenris coughed loudly.  
  
“Maker's balls, Fen,” Hawke laughed with great amusement, continuing to bring her hand down in a rhythm until the man was drawing in sharp, steadying breaths. “Maybe you've had enough? Your face is turning a bit red!”  
  
Anders smirked slightly, masking his immediate, responding concern with sarcasm. “And here I thought you didn't have a limit, Broody.”  
  
Fenris wiped his mouth, glaring between Anders and Hawke, looking oddly frazzled. And there was a lovely shade to his dark skin, wasn't there? His white hair falling over those brilliant green eyes of his...  
  
Anders looked away again, staring resolutely down at his shit hand of cards.  
  
_'Yes, concentration. Right good plan there, Justice. Best not to start with any inappropriate fantasies again.'_

_**'Indeed.'** _

_'Exactly. No thoughts of Fenris' likely soft lips, or...how they might feel pressed to mine. Or, the strength of his arms. And how they might feel wrapped around my body? Not even any of those silly thoughts I might have about how far down those markings go...Maybe even how his cock would feel in my mouth...down my throat...'_  
  
_**'Good. I am glad we can agree on this, Anders.'**_  
  
Anders resisted rolling his eyes at the spirit in his head, moving to take a swig of his tankard of cider, but stopping short when Fenris spoke up in a raised voice.  
  
“ _What_ did you just say, mage?” He demanded unsteadily, eyes flashing as they bore into Anders.  
  
Anders jumped in his chair, and his heart jumped in his chest as he looked around wildly, wondering if he had somehow, inexplicably, _said that out loud?!_  
  
But, silence had met the warrior's words.

An uncomfortable sort.

Everyone looked between Anders and Fenris, before Merrill leaned in toward Hawke and failed at a subtle whisper. “He's doing it again, isn't he Hawke?”  
  
“Doing what?” Isabela asked, sharing a look with Varric, who shrugged.  
  
Fenris stood before Merrill or Hawke could answer, shaking the table as he slammed his hand of cards down.  
  
“Fenris, everything all right?” Hawke tried, moving to stand but stopping short when Fenris held up a hand.  
  
“It is nothing, Hawke. I will be taking my leave," Fenris rumbled, shooting Anders a dark, odd look. One that made Anders' already heavily beating heart skip a bit, before the warrior was turning to leave.  
  
Anders stared after Fenris' retreating form, confused and feeling oddly paranoid; as if he were an apprentice that had just been caught doing something indecent.  
  
_'Maybe he just...thought I mumbled some sort of insult, or something,'_ Anders tried to rationalize, knowing he was prone to reading too far into things.  
  
_**'Perhaps we should follow him and ensure that he is physically well. Our time would surely be better served healing, rather than gambling.'**_  
  
“Anders?”  
  
Anders looked up to see the others watching him; embarrassed to have missed the conversations going on in front of him because he was having one in his own mind.  
  
“I _said_ ,” Isabela repeated slowly, “Are you _in_?”  
  
Anders put his hand face down on the table as he stood. “Actually, no. I think I'll...”  
  
“If you're headed out for the night,” Hawke put in, “could you possibly just check on Fenris? He's been a bit...off. Since that blood mage.”  
  
“What blood mage?” Varric inquired, interest coloring his features and matched by Isabela, and even Aveline and Sebastian were looking curious now.  
  
Anders nodded to Hawke, glad to have an excuse to go after Fenris. “All right, Hawke. But you owe me. My kindness and ability to do good deeds certainly have their limits.”  
  
_**'Liar.'**_  
  
Anders suppressed a smile, waving his good-byes as he took off after Fenris.  
  
_'Shut it, you. I have a reputation to uphold.'_  
  
_**'If that reputation is of you being unkind, then you are doing a poor job of it.'**_  
  
'Sarcasm, _Justice. Andraste's socks, I am not having this conversation again._ '

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your kind comments and kudos! <3

Fenris stalked up the steps leading away from Lowtown and up into Hightown with all the affability of a feral wolf.  
  
He ignored the familiar set of dirty looks sent his way by any noble ranking humans still wandering the streets that night, and he shot a dark scowl of his own at a guardsman that decided to follow after him for a few strides.  
  
He could feel the pull of guard's thoughts, heavy with suspicion. What was an armored elf doing in Hightown so late at night? Was he a thief? A smuggler?  
  
Fenris almost seemed to welcome the surge of irritation it brought him, choosing to concentrate on this temporary distraction from the prickling heat that still clung to his skin after what had transpired at the Hanged Man.  
  
But the distraction did not last. The guard's attention was taken by some other supposed miscreant, which left Fenris alone with his thoughts.  
  
Or rather, with _Anders'_ thoughts.  
  
Fenris did not know what that blood mage had done to him, but he had thought he possessed a strong enough resolve to handle the unwanted, chaffing thoughts of others. With the hopes that it was a temporary affliction, that it would pass if given enough time to fizzle out.   
  
But Fenris had not been prepared to learn what others hid beneath the surface. For the ridiculous arguments between Anders and his demon in their shared mind.   
  
For the man's perverse fantasies.   
  
Perverse fantasies, about _him_.  
  
Fenris had seen stark flashes into the mage's mind, and it had been more than just  _words_. He had seen some sort series of incomplete images; as if he had been pulled into Anders' head to witness just what the mage had imagined.  
  
Anders had thought of Fenris' _mouth._ Had wondered over the softness of his lips so casually, as if it were a commonplace occurrence. He had thought wistfully of their lips pressed hotly together, Fenris' arms wrapping tightly around his willingly pliant body, so at odds with what Fenris knew of the defiant mage.   
  
Anders had imagined himself on his knees, with Fenris standing before him.

Fenris concentrated on his feet as he walked, keeping his steps steady.  
  
Venhedis, Anders had...he had imagined...Fenris' hard cock sliding rather roughly between his parted lips, the blonde so eagerly taking each brutal thrust deep into his throat.  
  
Fenris shuddered, his eyes falling shut and his steps nearly faltering as another pulse of charging heat shot through him and danced along his spine.   
  
It was far more than he had ever wanted to know about the abomination, more than he would want to know about anyone. And it made little sense. Why would Anders think of  _him?_    
  
Perhaps even more alarming was that Fenris had found himself far less adverse to the imagery than he had any sense to be.  
  
In fact, he had found himself feeling the exact  _opposite_  of aversion at the thought of the unruly mage brought to his knees before him, taking his cock into his effectively silenced mouth and fervently sucking him off.  
  
Fenris was unable to hold back the shudder that made its way passed his lips when a curl of arousal hit him, and he forced it into a frustrated growl.  
  
He could not bring himself to trust any of it. For all he knew, his perception of Anders' thoughts had simply been twisted by blood magic. The mage couldn't possibly actually be interested in...  
  
Fenris brushed these needless contemplations aside.  
  
He needed to find a solution to this madness. For now, he would likely find enough peace in solitude. He could attempt to wait it out, alone, in his mansion. Hope that this curse would pass of its own volition, this  _magic_  that held him in its grip. If it did not, well...perhaps then he would explain it to Hawke.   
  
Fenris grimaced at the thought, remembering the way that Hawke and Merrill had looked at him, as if he were mad.  
  
Would they even believe him...?  
  
Fenris heard the footsteps approaching quickly from behind, and he tensed, readying himself for an attack –  
  
“Maker's breath, but you're fast,” an out-of-breath voice complained from behind him, and Fenris' markings flashed for a beat, but he managed to control his surprise at letting Anders sneak up on him.   
  
_Fasta vaas,_  what did the fool want  _now?_  
  
“Why are you here, mage?” Fenris asked testily, continuing on his way without so much as a glance in Anders' direction. He did not want to risk seeing directly into the fool's mind again.

Not that it helped much.  
  
” _We were worried about you, you prickly git.”_    
  
Fenris' brows drew down in a scowl, and he unconsciously quickened his pace.  
  
“Would you believe me if I said I was just out for a stroll?” Anders asked aloud glibly, trailing after Fenris and falling into step at his side. “I do so enjoy a thrilling, near-brush with Templars and the Kirkwall guard. Keeps an apostate young, that does.”  
  
Fenris ignored the foolish blonde's snarking, but chanced just a quick glance in his direction.   
  
He immediately regretted the inclination.   
  
Anders' golden hair was coming loose of its tie, falling over his lightly flushed face, his pink lips parted in a soft pant.   
  
“Hawke sent you,” Fenris said deliberately, a bit too forcefully as he immediately looked away from the blonde, an uncomfortable warmth spreading up his throat.   
  
_Damn_ this mage and his perverse fantasies.   
  
Fenris was already shaken by the overtly  _sexual_  thoughts that Anders had had about him; but he found himself even more uncomfortable with the implication of the human's current thoughts.   
  
That he had elected to follow Fenris in a show of honest concern, rather than simply following Hawke's direction. That he was...truly worried.  
  
Blood magic twisting his perception was seeming more and more likely.  
  
“Of course Hawke sent me,” Anders said superciliously. “You honestly think I'd take a stroll through Hightown in the dead of night for your sake if she hadn't?”  
  
” _ **You are lying again, Anders. We were already planning to check on the lyrium warrior before she requested as much.”**_  
  
“ _He doesn't have to know that, Justice. And Maker knows he wouldn't even believe me if I told him.”_  
  
Fenris twitched.   
  
“So then,” Anders prompted when Fenris offered no response. “Does she have reason to be worried?”  
  
“No.”   
  
“Then why are you acting so strangely?”  
  
“ _Always so bloody difficult. Stubborn sod.”_  
  
Fenris clenched his jaw. “I am not acting  _strangely,_ ” he growled. “I simply wish to be alone.”  
  
“Right. Well. Not that it's all that strange for you to shout at me for no actual reason and storm off in a fit of broody rage,” Anders said with an infuriatingly mouthy tone. “But  _Hawke_  thinks you've been a bit off. Since that blood mage knocked you off your feet, that is.”  
  
Fenris frowned. He did not want Hawke to think him incapable or some sort of liability. “What do you mean, 'off'?” he asked, slowing his steps as his mansion's door came into view.   
  
“Just that you seem a bit...troubled.”  
  
“ _And maybe a bit daft._ ”  
  
“I am not  _troubled,_ ” Fenris snapped. “And you can tell Hawke as much.”  
  
They both came to a stop at the front of Fenris' mansion, and Anders held up a hand before Fenris could retreat to the silence promised by solitude.   
  
“Nothing happened when the spell hit you? Nothing at all?” Anders prodded. “Merrill seems to think you've been...hearing things.”  
  
“ _ **It may be possible that he has been possessed by a demon.”**_  
  
Anders frowned, and Fenris inwardly bristled at Justice's suggestion.   
  
“An abomination and a blood mage are concerned that  _I_  am hearing voices,” Fenris remarked evenly, though his voice was noticeably caustic. “Spare me your sanctimony, mage.”

“ _Right. He doesn't really seem possessed, does he? Just...grumpier than usual._  
  
“ _ **Perhaps. Even still, it is my suggestion that we keep a close watch on him."**_  
  
Fenris noticed Anders' mouth quirk ever so slightly.   
  
“ _Certainly no complaints here. I will gladly take your permission to gawk at this criminally handsome bastard as often as I please.”_  
  
Fenris twitched again.  
  
“ _ **That is not what I meant.”**_  
  
“ _I'll take what I can get.”_  
  
“Mage,” Fenris growled, getting his attention. “Cease arguing with your demon and return to Hawke.”  
  
Anders' golden-brown eyes widened.   
  
“ _ **I am not a demon."**_  
  
“I er,” Anders muttered, brows drawing together in a slight furrow. ” _How did he...”_  Anders shook his head, looking slightly flustered. “I'm not arguing with Justice. The  _spirit._  And I'm just trying to help, so stop biting my bloody head off.”  
  
“Or you simply have nothing better to do than run errands for Hawke and to bother me with your prattling.”   
  
“Oh, sod you,” Anders snapped. “I'm not the one who's going to spend the rest of his night getting drunk off his poncy wine collection. I have things of actual importance to do, you know.”  
  
“ _ **We do. Let us waste no more time arguing here. He is unlikely to tell us more than we already know.”**_  
  
“ _Just a moment, Justice.”_  
  
“ _ **You seek to prolong looking at him. And to let him growl at you, because you enjoy it. It is a waste of time. A distraction."**_  
  
Fenris blinked. He enjoyed it when he... _growled_  at him?   
  
“ _Come off it, Justice. It's not like anything will ever come of my little fixation – “_  
  
” _ **You mean your obsession."**_  
  
“ _It's just a little crush, Maker's breath.”_  
  
Fenris started, unable to mask his surprise. “What?”  
  
Anders and his demon were discussing the mage's  _'crush'_  on  _him?_  
  
_Venhedis_ , this was not happening. He was  _not_  hearing this.  
  
Anders looked taken aback. “ _'What'_ , what?” He asked slowly. “What important things? Er, like healing?” The mage's voice had taken on a forced joking tone, but Fenris thought he looked put off.   
  
“ _Andraste's knickers those intense eyes of his almost feel like they're seeing straight into my head.”_  
  
Fenris could have laughed at the absurdity of it all, and he found himself leaning in and meeting Anders' slowly widening eyes.  
  
“You know, mage, you accuse me of acting strangely...” Fenris said in a low voice, before he could stop himself. “But you're the one that looks like he's hearing things.”  
  
Fenris couldn't say what it was that was compelling him to tease the other man, but whatever it was brought him directly in front of Anders, crowding the human's space.  
  
Anders went very still. “I um – sorry? What?” His pale skin had that lovely flush to it again, and it darkened further to a deep scarlet when Fenris leaned in even closer. He could smell the faintest hint of cider on the other man's breath.   
  
Fenris found the sight of Anders' embarrassed blushing oddly pleasing, bringing back those stark flashes into Anders' fantasies. A corner of Fenris' mouth pulled into a small, dark smirk when he realized that the mage's head was completely silent for a few breathless beats.  
  
Fenris also realized that he rather liked having this effect on the normally smart-mouthed mage.  
  
But then those honey-brown eyes darted down to Fenris' mouth for a fleeting second, and Fenris pulled away, turning to his door and catching one last thought from Justice.  
  
“ _ **Anders, control yourself. You are becoming**_ _ **aroused."**_  
  
“Best to get to all those...'important things' then, mage,” Fenris murmured with one last smug look down at Anders' robes. The mage was standing absolutely still, his face brightly burning in the dim light.  
  
Fenris' markings lit with an ethereal blue, and he walked straight into his mansion; leaving Anders staring wide-eyed at the door as he disappeared through it.

 


End file.
